


Coming Home

by DEx Hooker (FangBanger)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangBanger/pseuds/DEx%20Hooker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two weeks since their kiss at Granny's, and she's finally ready to show him what he means to her, even if she's not quite ready to say it.  She's been working on a surprise for days and it's finally ready. PwP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Coming Home  
> Author: Roguie  
> Fandom: Once Upon A Time  
> Pairing: Hook/Emma  
> Rating: M – sexually explicit  
> Spoilers: Up to and Including 3x22 There's No Place Like Home  
> Summary: It's been two weeks since their kiss at Granny's, and she's finally ready to show him what he means to her, even if she's not quite ready to say it. She's been working on a surprise for days and it's finally ready. PwP.  
> Disclaimer: Once Upon A Time doesn't belong to me. If it did we'd have seen a whole lot more action than a panned out kiss in front of Granny's on Sunday. It would be very difficult to ever eat on that patio again if I'd had my way. Alas, it doesn't air on HBO and nobody pays me a thing for what I do with it, so I can safely say, not it!  
> A/N: Hopefully you're not all getting tired of the smut since that seems to be what my muse is pushing these days. She's still very hyper from the finale and is fairly uncontrollable when it comes to writing what she wants, so I'm afraid I have to keep pushing the unadulterated sex on everyone until she's over it. Sorry? ;) (not sorry)

~~~?~~~

 

It was late when the piece of parchment slipped under his door, a light knock drawing his attention to its presence. He retrieved the paper, opening the door to glance out into the hallway but finding it as empty as it had been when he'd first entered his room at the inn. A small furrow appeared across his forehead as he slipped his hook under the seal and lifted the paper open.

Diner. 11pm. You don't want to be late.  
~E

A slow grin spread across his face, his thumb coming up to trace his lower lip as he reread the words carefully. In his day, his crew would have found reason to ridicule him, chasing after a woman who gave him no words and no more than a few chaste kisses night after night as he left her wordlessly at her doorstep. He'd long since re-familiarized himself with the palm of his hand, the gentlest kiss enough to fill the small breathing space his leather pants allowed, the softest whisper of a moan enough to drive pikes of hot burning lust through his brain.

She'd been hesitant about moving ahead physically, allowing the option to sit between them like a heavy weight in the middle of a placid pool, but he understood her hesitancy. He'd rather the gentle kisses and soft touches over going back to nothing, but it had been two long weeks of learning each other, of talking, of tasting, and the pirate that lived within cried out at the injustice of it all.

She'd had something up her sleeve the last few days, sneaking off without him late in the afternoon, meeting him late for breakfast covered in dust with her green eyes sparkling like he'd never seen. His heart would clutch and lurch painfully as she met him on those mornings, her stance relaxed, her smile wide and natural, her entire body lightened with her obvious happiness. He questioned her a time or two, but it had only resulted in a wink followed by a pout with an obvious teasing, “Don't you trust me, Killian?” that he could never push past.

Tonight, however, was something new. She'd never directly requested his presence, leaving their meetings up to chance or up to him. Change was on the horizon and he couldn't help the wide grin that curved his lips as he grabbed his jacket off the coat rack and dashed out of his room, down the stairs and into Granny's diner. The smile faded slightly as he realized the lights were dimmed, the doors locked and the closed sign spun facing out to the sidewalk. 

“Swan?” he questioned curiously, suddenly uncertain.

A tankard of rum was pushed into his hand and a gentle arm led him to a seat in the far corner. He looked up to meet Ruby's sparkling brown eyes. She offered him a quick wink, leaning forward to whisper in his ear softly. “You can thank me for this tomorrow.”

She reached behind the counter and put a still sealed bottle of rum within his reach. “You're on the honour system tonight, Captain. Enjoy!”

With that, she opened the front doors, allowing in a cloaked figure as she darted out, locking the doors behind her. Killian watched curiously as the new party remained in the shadows, choosing a table at the very front corner of the diner, picking up a pint of ale left on the table by the wolf, its head still frothy, the mug still chilled. It took him less than a heartbeat to recognize the cloak she wore, having spent endless hours studying the flow of her body beneath the soft fabric weeks prior as they fought their way through the past.

He swallowed thickly, his heart beating an unsteady samba in his chest as he watched her drain her beer before she climbed to her feet, still ignoring him, and disappearing behind the counter to refill her mug. Only when she'd managed to control the frothy head with her lips, chasing the escaping foam with her warm tongue across the chilled glass, only then did she look up, green eyes meeting blue, mischief and arousal instantly sparking between them in an almost visceral arc of light.

He couldn't tear his eyes from her as she undid the clasp of her cloak, draping it over the bar with slow deliberate motions. His fingers tightened around his mug as she undid the little ties holding together the front of her corset, allowing the fabric to fall open just enough to tease him to near full arousal without a word passing between them. He didn't know how she'd had the entire outfit recreated so quickly, but he wasn't going to ask or complain. He watched her closely as she walked towards him, leaning over the table, her breasts at the perfect level to taunt him, but he held her gaze firmly.

“Drinking alone, Captain?” she grinned at him, flipping one long blonde lock of hair over her shoulder, the movement impossible to resist, pulling his attention to exactly where she wanted.

He swallowed audibly, shifting in his seat, using the barest touch of his hook to pull at the leather on his legs, desperate for a bit more room. “Hopefully not anymore, lass,” he responded the moment he had control over his voice.

Her face broke into a full smile as she slipped into the booth next to him, shifting on the seat so that she faced him, shoulder leaning against the back of the bench, the fingers of one hand moving to slowly stroke his thigh. “Tell me, how does a man as attractive as you,” she winked teasingly, “End up drinking alone? No pretty wench to take the edge off?”

He took a long drink from his rum, allowing the haze of the alcohol to distract him before pushing the drink across the table and lowering his fingers to cover hers against his leg. “Oh, there are pretty enough wenches in town to be true, but I've eyes only for one.”

She captured his hook in her free hand, tracing the metal with slow, deliberate fingers, softly sucking her lower lip between her teeth as she watched his throat constrict and listened to his breath catch. “Lucky girl,” she murmured, shifting close enough to him that her breath whispered across his jaw. “She must be quite a pleasure in bed to keep you so dedicated.”

His eyes closed briefly as his entire body trembled, images of exactly what they'd be like between the sheets on sudden display in his mind. With her words whispering heat across his skin, her hand scalding his thigh with sensation barely muted by the leather between them, his hook captured between fingers that suggested unspeakable pleasures with their pointed movement, he found himself suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of breathy whispers, soft moans, and wet, hot flesh surrounding him with no mercy in sight.

Instead of reacting, he used every single iota of strength in his body and tore himself away from the imaginings that called to him, instead meeting her green eyes with a tortured blue gaze. “I wouldn't know, love. She's not yet succumbed to my obvious charms.”

She giggled softly, releasing his hook in exchange for her beer, drinking the cold liquid down, using the broken moment between them to calm the heat building in her body. In turn, Killian took the opportunity to shift further in her direction, his hook finding the soft skin just above her corset, the cool metal trailing over warm flesh gently. It was Emma's turn to lose control of her breathing, her lungs struggling to fill as the corset prevented her from taking deep breaths, her chest literally heaving as he stroked his hook over the tops of her breasts.

“Perhaps,” Emma began, swallowing thickly as she forced her eyes open, her fingers trembling against his thigh, “Perhaps she has but doesn't know how to tell you.”

Killian inclined his head slightly, offering her a wry smile. “If that's so, then I'm afraid we'd find ourselves at a bit of an impasse. I am, above all else, a gentleman. I'll not push the issue, so if the lass remains unwilling to voice her desires...” He let the sentence drop away, reaching for his own mug, drinking down a good swallow of rum while he let her absorb his words without pressure, allowing the comforting fog of alcohol to steady his hand.

“Perhaps you should offer to show a girl your ship, Captain,” she murmured softly, fully expecting the dark look that bled through the lust in his eyes, his mouth losing its amusement as it turned firm.

“You know I can't do that, Swan,” he muttered, breaking character as he took another swig of his rum.

She slid out of the booth, swaying her hips as she walked towards the front door, breaking her own character for a quick moment to offer him an encouraging smile. “Never say can't, Killian, it doesn't suit you. Now are you coming, or will you sit there and wallow alone tonight?”

Without looking back, Emma flipped the lock on the diner door and walked out onto the dark streets. Killian watched after her for a moment, quietly contemplating what the girl was up to before climbing to his feet, pausing just a moment to ensure the rum hadn't gone completely to his brain, and following her out the door.

“All right, lass, you've got my attention.” He moved towards her, slipping his hand into hers as they walked across town and down towards the docks. 

“Figured I had your attention with the clothes, don't tell me I was wrong,” she teased, quietly.

He chuckled. “I'd ask what I did to deserve it, but I think I'll take my gifts where they come. Of course you had my attention with the clothing, Swan; you'd capture the attention of a dead man wearing a corset done up like you are.” He paused. “What I don't understand is the point of this evening.”

Emma blushed a deep red, shrugging as they walked. “You said that you didn't remember meeting me at that bar. I actually had a lot of fun that night, I thought you might have fun reliving it with me.”

“Ah, but this time it's me that gets the view down the corset instead of a version of me that is too stupid to appreciate it?”

A sharp bark of laughter escaped her lips before she could swallow it, leaving her grinning madly. “Oh, he appreciated it. He appreciated every, single inch that he could.”

A low growl built in his chest and before Emma could react to the guttural sound, Killian spun her towards him, pulling her tight against his body, covering her mouth with his. The kiss was hard and punishing, nothing like the sweet, gentle kisses they'd been sharing over the last weeks. He sucked her lower lip between his teeth, biting down until she gasped, licking it until she groaned quietly and her mouth opened in an invitation that he didn't give her a chance to rescind. His tongue delved deeply into her mouth, tracing the taste of alcohol and chocolate that hid within her warm depths. Something that later he'd deny resembled a whimper flew past his lips as he broke from her mouth, drinking in deep gasps of air before claiming the flesh of her throat. Nipping, licking, sucking, he desperately claimed her, marking her skin purposely, unmindful of any curious eyes that may set upon them as they stood beneath a street light, mere feet from the docks.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling lightly to gain his attention. “Killian, hey.”

He reluctantly pulled his lips away from her warm skin, claiming her mouth in one final burning kiss before meeting her gaze, his blue eyes startled, and suddenly hooded with guilt. “Emma, I...”

She chuckled, lifting a finger to his lips, shaking her head. “I'm not stopping you to stop you, idiot, I'm stopping you so we can get off the street and stop giving half the town a free show.”

He spared a quick glance up the road, noticing shadows moving and blending quickly in with the buildings, a rough bubble of laughter relaxing his body. “Where would you have us go, wench?” he teased softly, finger trailing a warm path across the swell of her breasts.

She winked at him, grinning widely as she pulled him down to the docks. “Why to your ship, Captain, where else would a pirate take his conquest of the night?”

He didn't have time to question her as she dragged him to the end of one dock, finding a small houseboat anchored and moored. Her fingers trembled in his as she walked towards it, pulling him with her, ignoring the stumble of his hesitant step as he looked between her and the boat.

“I know it's not the Jolly Roger, and I know nothing could ever replace her,” she started, swallowing nervously as she waved a hand at the little ship. “Um, it has a motor for maneuvering, and it's got sails if you want to take it out on the water. It, uh, doesn't have room for a crew, obviously, since it's supposed to be a home not a working ship, but it's got two bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room kitchen combo kind of room. Oh, and I talked to the harbour master and got approval for a propane generator, so you've got electricity and hot water. I know it's really small compared to the Jolly Roger, but I couldn't afford much bigger, and I thought at least it's not an apartment right? At least it's a boat?”

His heart turned over with something sharp and painful, the ache spreading across his chest in visceral tendrils of heat. His eyes burned with tears he'd never admit to and swirling emotions he could never name. He listened as she babbled nervously, growing less and less certain of herself the longer she spoke, and it was with a trembling finger that he silenced her. “Swan.”

She looked up at him, green eyes terrified and uncertain, offering him the most watery smile he'd ever seen on her normally confident lips. “I bought her from a scrap shipyard in Boston. Leroy got the town to help rebuild her. They, um, they finished it today. I furnished her this afternoon, which is kind of why we're out so late. It took a while to get everything set up. Um, she doesn't have a name yet. Leroy said that was okay because she was more scrap than boat when we got her. He said he left you paint at the bow when you've thought of a name, and not to wait too long because it's bad luck.”

“Swan.”

“The town's going to want to know what you think of it, but I told Ruby to hold them off until tomorrow.”

He laughed outright, no idea how to stop his princess from talking as she continued to ramble, so he reached around her and lifted her into his arms, silencing her with a swift kiss as he stepped confidently off the dock and onto the gangplank leading up to his new home. 

“I love the ship, Swan, now I'd like to properly love you.” He winked at her, kicking open the door to the cabin, descending into his new living quarters. “Unless you've just been a giant tease all night, love?”

His words easily broke through the panic that had clouded her thoughts, and a slow smile broke across her lips. “It would serve you right if I was, you've been a tease for two weeks.”

He scoffed loudly, dropping her onto her feet, shaking his head. “I beg to differ, Swan, I've been nothing but a perfect gentleman.”

She giggled. “Exactly. Tease. I mean, what's a girl got to do to get her pirate to take her to bed? Dress like a bar....” she squealed as he bent at the waist and flung her over his shoulder, taking long strides across the small room, finding the bedroom door, flinging it open and tossing her onto the bed he found within. “Wench!”

He laughed loudly as he hooked the bottom of his shirt and vest, pulling it off his body in one fluid motion. When she went to do the same, lifting her fingers into the ties of her corset, he held up a finger, his eyes darkening into a warning glare, and he shook his head. “Not a chance, love, you're mine to undress tonight.”

He lost his boots and belt, and loosened the ties of his leather pants while she lay on the bed watching him with a saucy grin. He climbed over the foot of the bed, offering her a wicked smile as he undid her shoes and stockings, tossing them over his shoulder as he lifted her skirts, lowering his lips to the soft skin he found beneath, beginning a slow path of burning kisses and gentle nips up the length of her leg. He chuckled as he listened to each of her quiet gasps, using his shoulders to push her legs further apart with each inch of her body he claimed as his own. A sharp whimper passed her lips when he reached her thighs, his fingers finding the soft lace that covered her warm sex from his view, his breath a hot tease against the damp fabric as a groaning laugh rose from his chest.

“These are not the undergarments of a bar wench, Swan,” he murmured in awe, a finger tracing the edge of the tiny triangle of silk and lace, slipping past the small barrier to dip into her wet flesh. “I daresay you cheated.”

She arched slowly beneath him, dragging her panty covered core across his nose as she moved deliberately, running her hands over her stomach and across her breasts, offering him a soft groan. “Have I displeased you, Captain?” Her voice was deliberately gentle and broken by pleasured gasps.

“Not in the least.” He grinned against her core, dragging his hook up her leg, the sharpened blade easily slipping between flesh and lace. “Less to tear away.” With a simple practised flick, the panties tore apart, a second flick removing them entirely from her body, leaving her bare and open to his starving gaze. “By the Gods,” he whispered, his voice broken by awe and desire, before lowering his mouth to her soft flesh, licking her slowly.

At the first touch of his tongue to her wet folds, a startled mewl of arousal escaped Emma's lips, her thighs tightening around his shoulders while he settled against her. He wasted no time teasing her; his tongue met her core with force, taking long warm laps at the warmth that seeped from her, skilled fingers opening her so that he could easily delve inside allowing him to drink deeply from her source. He couldn't control the feral growling that rumbled through his chest as he fed from her, licking her clean of her own cream before moving to the hooded bundle of nerves that swelled openly for his attention. He sucked her clit between his teeth, biting down on it with gentle pressure, grinning against her as she cried out, her legs trapping him to her like a vice. He shifted only long enough to slip his hand under her, his thumb immediately finding her core and delving inside, stretching her open gently even while he ran his finger over the curve of her arse, trailing through her dripping juices to press against her from behind. Her startled cry and the scent of a fresh flow of arousal dripping around his thumb urged him on, opening her with both fingers while he licked, sucked, and nipped at her aching bundle of nerves, grinning like the Cheshire cat when she quickly began tightening around him.

“You have no idea how long I have waited to watch you come apart for me, love,” he murmured, his words a hot breath against her clit as he pressed his fingers deep inside of her with strong, firm thrusts. “I'd appreciate it if you'd not keep me waiting any longer,” he grinned against her flesh before lowering his mouth one last time, sucking her clit with heavy, determined pressure, flicking his tongue over it, once, twice, three times before pressing down on it and burying his fingers inside her as deeply as possible.

She came apart on a sharp cry that could have been his name, or could have been calling for god. Her entire body pulsed around him, her hot walls closing around his thumb even while he encouraged her to rise higher with short, shallow thrusts that dragged out her orgasm mercilessly, easing out his fingers only when her body began to relax and the arch she'd broken into straightened. He lazily lapped at her swollen folds as she came back to herself, panting heavily, her heart pounding so heavily in her chest that each beat was a visceral ache that spread through her every cell.

Untangling himself from her skirts, Killian offered the flushed, panting princess a very self satisfied smirk as he licked his lips, making a show of lifting his thumb to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick the drying remnants of her arousal from his skin. He moved to the wash basin she'd set out on the window ledge, washing his hand clean, drying it with the cloth he found next to it before turning back to her and lifting an eyebrow. She'd managed to unlace the corset while he'd been distracted and she was half out of the dress before he'd turned around. He held the back of his hand to his lips momentarily, trying to stifle the laughter that was threatening to break free as she struggled against the stubborn costume.

“Emma, love,” he started, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Shut up, Hook.” she growled in warning, twisting amongst the layers of fabric, helplessly. “You grew up with this crap, I've put one dress on. ONE. And I've never had to get out of one. This is ridiculous!”

He took pity on her squirming form, partially for her, partially because he couldn't wait to see her naked, lifting the heavy skirts over her head, freeing her from their trap. He tried desperately to keep his eyes on the fabric as he lowered the dress off the bed, but her body practically sang to him, called to him until he looked back, feasting on the sight of her creamy, pale skin against the dark fabrics she'd picked for his bedding. A soft shiver ran down his spine as his eyes immediately darkened to cobalt, pupils blown wide by lust and arousal, his leather pants suddenly all too confining as his cock swelled to full mast without preamble.

Words escaped him as he stared at her, his mouth dry, his heart beating an unsteady rhythm, blood rushing past his ears louder than an angry river. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how much it meant for her to be laying naked and open in his bed, how much he loved her and nothing could ever take him from her. He wanted to breathe poetry in her ear as he pressed into her, hell, he wanted to write poetry for her, words that would transcend time much as they had done. He wanted to worship her as a goddess, but when she lifted her arms to him, welcoming him down to her, he could say nothing.

He trembled in her arms as he laid himself across her body, a tremble that was answered by a soft whimper upon her lips. He lowered his mouth to her nipple, taking her soft and slow into his warmth, building a slow heat within while she tangled her fingers in his hair and held him close. He kicked off his leather pants, letting them drop forgotten off the edge of the bed as he settled between her thighs, fingers parting her gently as he nudged her core with the very tip of his weeping, swollen need.

His eyes were an ocean of swirling emotion, love, desire, adoration as he slowly eased himself into her heat, her warm, wet walls surrounding him, inviting him deeper, taking him inch by inch into her soft body. She whimpered her pleasure loudly as he stretched her open, filling her beyond capacity, her eyes flying open as he lay fully seated within her and paused his movements on a pained groan. She easily read every feeling as it bled from his gaze, feelings that she couldn't yet voice but also could no longer deny that she returned. She let him read her own eyes as she lifted her hands to his face, holding him over her, telling him the only way she knew how.

I love you.

I want you.

I will not run.

I'm yours.

You're home.

Forever.

Every single silent word was mirrored back in his gaze and she knew that this was the final step in bringing down the walls she'd built so high around her heart. Together they were strength. Together they were love. Their story began, for real, in that eternal moment, two hearts beating, two lives evolving, two souls merging as one.

Tears came to both sets of eyes, blue and green, as he slowly began to move. He took long, deep strokes within her body, need that burned hotly pushed aside for the aching love that grew between them. Lips pressed to lips, tongues teasing instead of warring, fingers wrapped together as silk welcomed steel, over and over again, their rhythm slow and perfect, eyes locked and never breaking away.

When her orgasm took her, her stretched walls clenching tightly around him, her nails digging into the hand she held and the shoulder she stroked, she took him with her. Arcs of white lightening flowed between them, singeing hair, shocking nerves as he pulsed deeply within her, spilling his seed into her welcoming body, slowly milked of everything he had to give her, and still their gazes never broke. He moved within her until he could move no more, their bodies damp with sweat, their thighs sticky with their mixed releases, their hair plastered to their faces, but when he pulled from her still fluttering core, the groans that escaped their lips were of raw loss.

He moved to her side, pulling her flushed body against his sweat slicked chest, burying his face in the nape of her neck, breathing her in. His fingers splayed out across her stomach, holding her to him with near desperation, his body trembling with pure love, astonishment, and that lingering fear that she'd bolt from his arms given the smallest of chances.

When she snuggled against him, her own body shivering with emotions she wasn't able to voice, the residual tension that he harboured bled away, leaving him happy and boneless. He placed soft kisses against the back of her neck and across her shoulders as she sighed softly, closing his eyes and for a single moment, just feeling everything.

Her hair against his face.

Her body against his chest.

Bedding that she chose under him.

A home that she built around him.

The waves of the ocean beneath him.

“The boat has two bedrooms, does it?” he murmured suddenly, fingers stroking a nervous path across the soft skin of her stomach.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she lifted her head to face him, pressing a gentle kiss against his jaw. “Teenagers need their privacy.”

His heart stalled in his chest, air burned in his lungs, time froze around him as he stared down at her with so much hope and love radiating off of him that he was sure the town could see it ashore. “Aye, they do.”

“Ruby's bringing our things in the morning, along with breakfast. I didn't have a chance to get groceries.” She paused. “If you don't mind. I figured neither of us had enough to matter if Ruby packed it up for us.”

He chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head softly. “The wolf is welcome to anything she finds if it means you're never leaving my bed, love.”

“I'll let her know that,” she giggled, closing her eyes and letting the peace of their new home lull her into a half sleep.

“Emma?” he swallowed thickly, his breath hot against her neck.

“Yeah?”

“If you're doing this out of guilt because of the Jolly, you should know that I don't regret having traded her. Not for a second. She's but wood and rigging, and yes, I loved her, but I love you far more.”

She smiled into the darkness, covering his hand with her own, entwining their fingers gently. “Not guilt.”

“Gratitude, then? For New York?”

She shook her head softly. “Not gratitude.”

His voice broke as he nuzzled her ear, his words no louder than a whisper. “Will you tell me why, or leave me to guess?”

She pulled his hand up her body, pressing his palm to her chest over her heart. “Welcome home, Killian.”

He lay awake long into the night, listening to the swell of the ocean against the hull of his ship, feeling the beat of her heart under the palm of his hand. Her chest rose evenly with each breath, and only once in the night did she startle him in her sleep when she stiffened in his arms and quietly cried out his name. He tightened his hold on her, lowering his lips to her ear.

“I'm here, love, you're just dreaming,” he murmured, the low rumble of his words comforting her, smoothing out the tension that filled her body. Only when her breathing evened once more did he relax his hold on her body, once again closing his eyes, giving himself over to the night.

“Love you.”

His eyes flew open, his body stiffened as he released her from his hold. “Emma?”

She turned in his arms, still fast asleep as she settled against his chest, her fingers tangling in the hair that darkened his skin. “'... home, Killian, love you.”

Tears filled his eyes as he held her to him tightly. “Welcome home, Emma,” he whispered back. “It's about bloody time, love.”

~~~Fin~~~

Much like magic, all muses come with a price. My muse's price is that little box down below. Please don't make her chase you for payment, it's such a bloody awful waste of her time.


End file.
